


Interlude

by allofuswithwings



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Bitterness, Comfort Sex, Drinking to Cope, M/M, POV First Person, Resentment, The Resistance Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: Matt’s resentment of the world post-break-up. Dom could be the antidote to all this poison.
Relationships: Matt Bellamy/Dom Howard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal/Dreamwidth. Originally posted January 2010.
> 
> Quite acidic and blunt in regards to the public at large, so if you’re sensitive then don’t read this.

They’re vultures. All of them.

Circling around over the carcass of my former life and the person I used to be.

The journalists and music writers are just here to leer at what’s left of this broken form, to see if there’s anything worthwhile to write in their gossip columns about the disintegration of Matthew Bellamy’s relationship. They’ll pick my bones and smear my blood across their latest glossy pages, and then forget about me next week.

The others are here to see if they can get a piece of flesh that remains, hungry for the taste of rock star, of who they think I am. Because I am broken they see it as an opportunity to scavenge, to take what they want, get their fill of me.

As if it were that easy.

As if I am.

As though being in a relationship were some sort of hex against them, so they didn’t even dare try. They haven’t given Chris a second glance in years.

Because they think life is that simple. That people are.

When I know I’ve seen Chris’s eyes and hands linger too long on others, and can read the want in his face. He won’t tell me if he’s strayed, or how many times, but I’m sure of it.

Because I did. And we all did. Labels and lines drawn are meaningless to me, and to the rest of this family too, I’m sure.

Because Chris and I had partners, we were deemed unavailable and less interesting, where as Dom was, and is, fair game to them. When the truth is much closer to the opposite. He is free to be as selective as he wants because he has so much choice. His standards are high, and he won’t fuck just anyone who bats their eyelashes at him.

But where are my standards now? Now that I have endless options and no-one to tell me no?

I could be like Dom.

But I can’t. Not yet.

I feel nothing for those who want me. They’re still vultures. Filthy, despicable things; pulling, tugging, staring, howling.

And as we leave the gig, I want nothing to do with them. I don’t even bother with a plastered smile or fake, polite wave. I keep my head down, slip on my sunglasses on as we bustle into the car. I ignore them completely.

The doors shut and the screaming dulls to a more bearable din.

I find myself sighing, and feel a hand on my arm. I turn my head to see Dom giving me a grim smile.

He knows exactly how I’m feeling without having to ask, always has done, and I’m never more glad of it than now. His hand slips up to my shoulder and remains there for the rest of the car ride back to the hotel, as he chats with Chris, Morgan and Tom.

There’s a do on at the hotel bar for us to keep going through the night, but I’d already decided earlier to avoid it. I head straight for my room as we arrive, and sense someone shadowing my path to the lifts. I know it’s Dom before he even steps into the lift with me, and I meet his eyes with a grateful gaze I haven’t shown anyone for a while.

I can’t stand to be around people at the moment, but I don’t want to be alone. I’m glad he’s here.

When we get to my room, I invite him in, though we both know that it’s strictly a formality. I go straight for the bottle of vodka in the cupboard and take a decent number of swigs directly from it.

Dom watches me but doesn’t say anything. He reaches for the whiskey and smiles.

It doesn’t take long before both of us are suitably liquored up. We haven’t eaten since before the show, so the alcohol is quick in its effect. I’m not drunk yet, just swimming a little in fuzziness and amusement.

Dom looks about the same, his smile adopting a sloppy character, and he kicks off his shoes to stretch out on the bed in the middle of the room. I join him, propping my head up by one hand to watch him while he talks.

We chat about the gig, the tour, how the new album is going, and what we have coming up over the new year. Dom is thoughtful enough to spare me from what he knows I should be talking about, what everyone wants me to talk about.

He’s aware it’s unhealthy for me to keep everything inside, but he won’t force it from me. Unlike everyone else has been trying to. Another thing I’m grateful to him for.

I screw the cap back on the bottle of vodka and let it lie on the duvet of the bed. Dom has already discarded his to the bedside table.

I notice the conversation begin to dwindle, and Dom is lying next to me, watching me. I stare back into his grey eyes, trying to work out what’s going on his head, as he no doubt is doing to me.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question takes me by surprise, and at first I assume he’s taking the piss. But as I study his face, his expression is serious, sincere, and my surprise turns into confusion.

“If you want,” I find myself saying slowly. “But why?”

Dom edges closer to me and slides a hand around the back of my neck.

“I think you need it,” he replies, with a wry smile.

I look at his long, black lashes and full lips as his face nears mine, and my eyelids flutter as he closes the gap. He presses a soft open-mouthed kiss against my lips, holding it only for a few moments before pulling away.

I’ve never been kissed by Dom before, and I find myself filled with adrenaline from it, my breath leaving me temporarily. It wasn’t what I expected. I never expected it.

Dom has a small smile on his lips, not his usual smirk, and I notice the way his pupils have dilated. I lean forward to repeat the his action, my mouth open against his. His lips part this time too, and I feel just a hint of his tongue before we break away.

I hear myself sigh, and Dom leaves his face close to mine, eyes tracking over my features. They come back to catch my gaze, and I study the grey of his irises up close.

“ _Dom_.”

The word is breathless, quiet, and for a moment I’m not even sure I’ve said it out loud.

I lift my hands up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him back to me again, joining our mouths once more. The kisses are still brief at first, wet and open-mouthed, but I find myself taken by a fever, and everything soon spirals out of control.

I kiss him desperately, deeply, enjoying the sweet taste of his tongue in my mouth, and mine in his. Dom rolls himself on top on me, and soon our hands joins our mouths in this mania of contact; touching and grabbing and feeling whatever they can.

My clothes are pulled from me, shirt first followed by socks and trousers, and I too hastily undress Dom with as much competency as I can muster. His mouth never leaves my body; kissing and licking at my lips, my throat, my chest, as I become less and less clothed by his hands.

I don’t stare in wonder at his nudity. I barely even look at all, given how many times before now I’ve seen it. It’s the sensation of it against my bare skin, aroused and slick with sweat, that overtakes me, and I groan as he grinds his hips down onto mine. I feel his erection pulse against my abdomen, and mine mirrors his in reply. He reaches down to take them both in his grip, sliding up and down with quick, firm strokes, and my back arches up off the bed at the sensation. I moan from between clenched teeth and blindly tangle a hand in his hair.

I capture his mouth again, and slip my other hand down to wrap fingers around his length. It feels strange to me; hot, hard and sticky with pre-come, and Dom shudders above me as I begin to pull him firmly. The noises he makes, the moans into my mouth, I’ve overheard before in buses and hotel rooms, but the fact that it’s because of me this time changes everything.

In a haze of arousal I squirm under him and flip myself over, manoeuvring him to lie atop me while I’m on my belly. His body envelopes my smaller one; he slides his hands along my arms to cover them with his own, his face nestling between my neck and shoulder, and he positions his legs along my inner thighs, spreading me apart.

I can feel the damp head of his dick nudging between the cheeks of my arse, and I tilt my hips back so he’ll slide further up. He groans. I pant and arch my neck, turning my face toward his a little.

“Please...” I whisper.

Dom’s damp breaths hit the back of my neck, and he winds fingers and thumb around one of my wrists, pressing it against the mattress. His hips rock back and forth, forcing his erection to press more and more against my opening, and I can feel my own dick pulsing under me.

“You feel...” Dom exhales heavily. “ _Fuck_... good...”

“Fuck me...” I reply, my voice diminishing into a whine.

He groans in response and writhes atop me, his body charged and wanting more.

I’ve only ever really been fucked by women with strap-ons, and even that was a long time ago, but I don’t care right now. All I can think about is being fucked by him, and I know it’s rattling around in his brain too.

I sense his slight reluctance; he probably thinks he’ll be taking advantage of me. Maybe he is. But I want him to.

“Yeah...?” he queries, his lips and tongue exploring the back of my neck.

“ _Please_...” I repeat.

Dom pauses a moment, looking up to survey the bedside table.

“I don’t have...”

“I don’t care,” I pant, cutting him off. “Just do it like this. For fuck’s sake...”

I’m beyond desperate now, and Dom doesn’t need telling twice. He spits in his hand and wets my entrance, before sliding it over his own dick to mix with his pre-come. He re-positions himself, and fidgets in an attempt to ease his way into me. I start backing up and he pushes forward, but for a while nothing seems to work. I can feel his cock bending as he tries to force his way past my ring of muscle, and I panic briefly that he’s going to give up.

But then my body gives, and I cry out as he enters me. I’d forgotten how uncomfortable and painful this was at first, and Dom pauses, choking as he’s overwhelmed with sensation. I reach my arm back to grasp his hip, my face pressing into the pillow, and pull him forward in encouragement.

Jesus fucking Christ, it doesn’t feel right, but I know it will in a moment.

Dom slides his way further in, and then begins an awkward rocking motion before finally developing into a steady rhythm. Pleasure starts to infuse the pain for me, and I sigh, allowing my hips to drop back down so I’m flat against the bed once more.

Dom moans in my ear as he fucks me; short, breathless noises that make my own erection swell and twitch. The sensation of the duvet fabric combined with the wetness of my pre-come against my dick is heavenly, and I don’t feel the need to tell Dom to wrap his hand around me.

Especially as he starts to tilt his hips just that little bit further at a higher angle, and I feel the head of his dick nudging my prostate. I whine, my body convulsing under him, and his fingers tighten their grip around my wrists as he realises what he’s doing to me.

He fucks me harder, abandoning his earlier caution, and the action sends me into a frenzy as I’m overcome with waves of pleasure. I shake and moan and beg for him, my arse pushing back to meet his thrusts now, as our bodies slip against one another, slick with sweat.

Leaning his head around, he crushes his lips against mine and I kiss him with a messy tongue, gasping for breath and feeling light-headed.

I can feel it all starting to get away from me now as Dom’s erection hits my prostate over and over, and my own dick is rubbed with wetness and fabric under the weight of our bodies. I wouldn’t have thought it would be enough to bring me over, but suddenly I’m coming, the pure hit of physical ecstasy ripping a moan from my throat.

The orgasm is violent and fantastic, and I feel Dom jolt and lurch to a halt as he hits his own climax. I know that sound too, but it’s infinitely sweeter in this context, and I’m aware of him spilling himself inside me as he convulses.

After a few moments, it’s all over, and Dom collapses atop me, sweaty and trembling. He doesn’t move for a while, and I have no inclination to get rid of him either as I feel him softening inside me. His breaths are slower, but still warm and wet against my neck, and he punctuates the breaths with kisses up and down my vertebrae. I allow myself to drift in the fuzzy afterglow of sex, and it’s Dom that breaks the reverie as he eventually pulls out and rolls off me.

The sensation makes me shudder and I draw in a sharp breath. The absence of his dick in me is replaced by the wetness of his come leaking from between the cheeks of my arse, and I turn over to face him. My belly and dick are smeared in my own release, and I reach a hand down to idly coat my fingers in it.

I find I’m enjoying the way it feels to be dirty all over like this; Dom’s semen inside me and sticky on my thighs and arse. It feels like proof of something.

When I look up, Dom is smirking at me, though his eyes are soft.

“You’re all filthy,” he murmurs.

“Your fault,” I reply.

He grins and kisses my forehead.


End file.
